Burning
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Clarice burns the letter from the good doctor and accidentally her hand. When he shows up, stuff happens. Wicked bad summary; story's better.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, Clarice or anyone else I might mention.  
  
A/N: Takes place one week after Chesapeake.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Clarice stared at the empty glass of Jack Daniels wondering if she should indulge herself in a second drink. She couldn't think of any reason not to; there wasn't any one she needed to impress. Sure, the reporters hadn't stopped calling, but she had finally lost her temper and unplugged her phone. They had tried to stake out in her lawn, but, in a random act of kindness, her landlady had chased them off.  
  
Finally deciding on a course of action, Clarice stood up and walked into the kitchen where she poured herself another glass. She drank half of it in one gulp, refilled it, and began to walk back to her couch. Halfway there, however, she stopped, having noticed a certain letter lying on her desk.  
  
"Dear Clarice,  
  
I have followed with enthusiasm the course of your disgrace and public shaming. My own never bothered me . . ."  
  
In a sudden fit of frustration, Clarice threw her glass across the room and let loose a loud scream. Instantly she felt like an idiot, but she did feel a little better. And she had an idea. Clarice picked up the letter and walked into the kitchen with it. She placed it on the counter and turned on the stove. After staring at the fire for a couple of seconds, she took the letter and put it in the fire. The paper instantly caught alight, the doctor's words burning away to nothingness. Clarice watched as if hypnotized until the smoke alarm went off.  
  
"Shit," she swore, turned off the stove, turned on the hose in the sink and doused the burning paper with freezing water until it was finally no longer ablaze. Clarice sighed, put the hose back and went to pick up the paper.  
  
"Fuck!" she yelled. The paper was still burning hot and she hadn't fully turned off the stove, therefore burning her hand quite badly. Instantly, Clarice turned the cold water on full blast and thrust her hand beneath it, trying to hold back the tears. The combination of the sound of the smoke alarm, the smell of the smoke, the burning pain in her hand and the freezing water mixed with the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to read the letter again was too much and the tears began to fall, mingling with the water.  
  
With her hand still beneath the water, she turned and looked at the remains of the letter. She shouldn't have done that. Even though she was angry at the doctor, she read the letter every night. It comforted her in an odd sort of way. Now she didn't have it, or much else from the doctor.  
  
Clarice sighed and turned her attention back to her red hand. It wasn't blistering, something that was some sort of miracle, but it was very red and very, very painful. The water was starting to numb her hand so she turned off the water and, cradling her hand with her other, she walked into her bathroom and took out the bottle of Aloe Vera. Carefully, as to not further injure herself, she squeezed a fat line of the sticky lotion over where it hurt the most. After she had completed the job, Clarice put a gauze bandage on it and went back into the living room where she saw the shattered glass and the small puddle of Jack Daniels against the far wall.  
  
"Screw it," she mumbled under her breath and went upstairs where she fell asleep instantly, not bothering to change or get under the covers.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Clarice woke up with a pounding headache and hand, reminders of last night's events. She groaned and rolled over onto a large, thick manila envelope with her name written on it in a very elegant, very familiar script. With shaking hands, Clarice opened the letter.  
  
"Dear Clarice,  
  
Judging from how you reread the previous letter I had sent you almost every night, I think perhaps you might miss it once you have had a chance to properly think about it, so I am sending you a new one. I hope that if you feel the need to dispose of this letter as well, you do it in a more suitable fashion so you do not hurt yourself. How is your hand, Clarice?  
  
As for the deliverance of this letter, yes, I admit to coming into your house, but, as you can tell, I have harmed neither you nor your possessions, so I think that perhaps you won't object quite as much, although I am very sure you are not pleased to hear this.  
  
I am glad that the reporters have stopped bothering you, at least for the time being. Aside from the fact that I'm sure you are very glad to no longer have them in your face, it makes it much easier for me to visit you undetected.  
  
Speaking of reporters, how is your work going? I hope the fiasco at Chesapeake hasn't threatened your position at the FBI; I know how much you care for your job, even if it isn't very likely you are going to go anywhere and I'm sure there are better uses of your time. I confess I am confused as to why you are still working for them. Does it still feel like you are protecting the lambs, Clarice? I think not.  
  
Well, I must be going in order to deliver this to you before you wake up, although I believe your hangover will keep you asleep longer than you might normally. Again, I hope your hand doesn't hurt you too much.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter  
  
Ps. By the way, I cleaned up the glass and Jack Daniels for you. Hope you don't mind.  
  
Ta ta,  
  
H"  
  
Clarice stared at the letter in disbelief, still stuck on the second paragraph. He had come into her house? Without her permission? Not, of course that she would ever give it, but that was the point. She almost considered going downstairs to burn this letter as well, but decided against it. The thought that she should turn it in to the FBI never once crossed her mind.  
  
As Clarice's eyes flitted over the letter once again, she felt her anger begin to recede without her permission. He had asked about her hand, cautioned her to be more careful in the future, asked about her job, even if it wasn't in the most tactful way possible, had asked once more about her hand and then had cleaned up the glass and the Jack Daniels for her.  
  
Clarice shook her head, smiling slightly for reasons she couldn't, or wouldn't, identify. Deciding to do something about the pounding in her head and hand, she went downstairs to the medicine cabinet and took out some Advil, which she took two of. Clarice went into the kitchen to get herself some breakfast, expecting a huge mess. Instead, the kitchen was spotless, exactly how it had always been, expect for one tiny detail.  
  
"Good morning, Clarice," Doctor Lecter said from where he was seated at her table.  
  
Clarice stared at him in shock. "What're you doing here?" she said, trying to keep her voice under control.  
  
"Merely checking to see if you are ok. How is your hand?" he asked and got up, moving over to Clarice, who instinctively took a step back for every one he took towards her until she was backed against her refrigerator. She told herself not to panic, which only half worked.  
  
"Please, leave," Clarice asked quietly, without nearly as much conviction as she wanted to.  
  
"Not until I'm sure you're ok. You gave yourself quit3 a burn last night," the doctor replied, still coming closer to Clarice until he was only a few inches away from her. "May I see your hand?"  
  
Clarice shook her head. "Absolutely not."  
  
"Clarice, I insist you see a doctor," Doctor Lecter continued, "and since I happen to be one, I could save you the trip."  
  
"I'm fine," she said brusquely and attempted to move to one side so she wouldn't be against the refrigerator anymore as it was quickly getting to be much more like Chesapeake than she cared for.  
  
Doctor Lecter put his hands against the refrigerator, capturing Clarice between his arms. "Then I insist you go to a doctor immediately."  
  
Clarice completely broke down. It was too like Chesapeake too soon and she could almost hear Krendler sitting in his wheelchair singing and feel the doctor's lips against her own. Cradling her injured hand protectively against her, she slid down the refrigerator, sobs racking her body, feeling like a complete and total idiot.  
  
There was a minute of silence before the doctor began, "Clarice, I-"  
  
"Please, just leave," Clarice managed to choke out between her sobs. "Just go and please, please don't come back."  
  
Doctor Lecter felt his heart drop. He could feel himself close to tears and instantly chided himself for it. He didn't *not* cry, especially in front of anybody else. "Promise me you will go see a doctor."  
  
Clarice nodded miserably, not looking up at him.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he said, "Alright. I'll go, and I won't come back." He walked out of the kitchen and, right before he was about to close the door behind him, he added so quietly it was almost inaudible, "Goodbye, Clarice. I'll miss you."  
  
At those words, Clarice started to cry even harder, and, not expecting the doctor to hear or understand her, she said, "Wait. I-I didn't mean that." As soon as she said the words, she knew they were true. She didn't want the doctor to leave and she most certainly didn't want him to not come back. When she didn't hear anything, she added in a whisper, "Please."  
  
"Are you sure?" she heard him answer, but didn't look up to see if he was going or not.  
  
"Yes," Clarice replied, her voice coming out far stronger and far surer of herself than she felt. She finally lifted her head to see Doctor Lecter kneeling beside her.  
  
He brushed a piece of hair out of her face and behind her ear before repeating, "May I see your hand?"  
  
Clarice nodded slowly and warily held her hand out for the doctor to examine. He unwrapped the makeshift bandage she had used last night and sighed when he saw her very red hand which seemed to have blistered over night. "Did you put Aloe Vera on this last night?"  
  
Clarice nodded. "I didn't know what else to do."  
  
"You did all that you could've," Doctor Lecter assured her. He went back to looking at her hand, occasionally asking her if this hurt or that ached. Eventually, he replied, "I think that you should put some more Aloe Vera on it and leave it unwrapped to let the air heal it. It will be painful and will most likely get worse before it gets any better, but it won't cause any serious damage."  
  
Clarice smiled slightly and nodded gratefully. "Thank you."  
  
"One more thing," the doctor added, "Please, if you want to dispose of my other letter, don't burn it."  
  
Clarice's smile widened. "I won't. In fact, I don't intent to 'dispose' of the letter at all."  
  
"That's one way to solve the problem," the doctor replied. "As you can see, I've cleaned up the mess from last night for you. Is there anything else you might need my help with as your right hand is temporarily unusable?"  
  
"No, thank you," Clarice replied. "I'm fine."  
  
Doctor Lecter eyed Clarice sceptically. "Clarice, you are a righty and your right hand is red and blistered from a burn. Now please tell me what you require help with."  
  
Clarice smiled slightly at him. "You never give up, do you? I honestly don't need help with anything."  
  
The doctor sighed. "Then would you at least allow me to fix breakfast for you?"  
  
Clarice couldn't help but laugh. "Alright. Fine. You can make me breakfast and, if you're hungry, make yourself something, too."  
  
"No, thank you, I'm fine," Doctor Lecter replied as he looked through Clarice's refrigerator. A couple of moments later he turned around and said, "I must confess, Clarice, you have a remarkably small selection of food, most of which isn't suitable for eating normally, especially breakfast."  
  
Clarice shrugged, blushing slightly. "I haven't gone shopping since Chesapeake."  
  
"Ah," the doctor replied uncomfortably. "Perhaps that would explain the lack of meat."  
  
"You weren't thinking about cooking meat for breakfast, were you?" Clarice asked, eyes widening in surprise.  
  
"I find that bacon goes excellently with eggs," Doctor Lecter replied.  
  
Clarice shrugged again. "Never really liked bacon much in the first place. I'm more of a chicken person."  
  
"I'll remember that," the doctor replied and went back to rummaging through the scare contents of Clarice's refrigerator. Eventually he immerged with a bag that used to hold a loaf of bread but now only contained two end slices and a mostly empty jar of jelly. "I'm sorry, Clarice. I was planning on making you something far more satisfactory than two slices of toast made from the ends of a loaf, but it is all you have, unless you would like me to go shopping for you."  
  
"No, toast is fine," Clarice replied. "And please, I can do things for myself. You don't need to clean up after me or run errands."  
  
"We will see what you can do for yourself. Once I'm done using it, try to wash the knife," Doctor Lecter challenged.  
  
"I'd be glad to," Clarice replied and walked over to where the doctor was standing at the counter. It took a few more minutes than it should since scraping the last of the jelly out of the jar was proving to be very difficult, but eventually the doctor was finished with the knife and Clarice carried it over to the sink where she tried to wash it. It wasn't working all that well since she only had one usable hand, but she refused to prove the doctor correct and she kept on trying until she felt him come up behind her and gently remove the knife from her grip.  
  
"Please, let me," Doctor Lecter offered.  
  
Grumbling, Clarice returned to her seat and proceeded to eat the toast, which should've been quite disgusting, but it actually tasted better than normal. "Did you add anything to the toast, Doctor?" she asked.  
  
"No, of course not," he replied, surprised. "Aside from the fact that you don't have anything to put in it, I find no reason to add anything. I always prefer my toast with only jam."  
  
"It just tastes good," Clarice replied. At the look she received from the doctor, she hastily added, "Well, it's with two end slices and almost dried up jelly."  
  
"Just your good fortune, then," Doctor Lecter replied, putting the knife in the dish drainer and going to sit next to Clarice.  
  
"I guess," Clarice replied sceptically and ate the rest of her breakfast in silence. Once she had finished and put her dishes in the sink to wash later, she turned to the doctor and asked, "Why are you here?"  
  
Doctor Lecter smiled at her. "I thought that at Chesapeake perhaps you were under too much pressure to properly asses the situation and that I might not have asked the correct question, so I am offering you the chance to try again."  
  
Clarice froze. "W-what is the question now?" she stammered, using all of her strength not to break down again.  
  
"Would you like to come with me?" the doctor asked. "We can go anywhere you wish, although places where I've already been, such as Florence, might be a tad inconvenient. I can show you the world, Clarice. Please at least consider it."  
  
Clarice could feel her head getting light as she tried to process the offer, but she refused to let herself faint in front of the doctor. She had already made enough of a fool of herself to last a life time. Yet, she felt herself swaying on her feet, heard a ringing in her ears that was getting louder by the second and saw the world getting dark. "Shit," she said before she collapsed onto the kitchen floor.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Clarice woke up lying on her living room w=couch with Doctor Lecter squatting next to her.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern slipping into his voice.  
  
Clarice groaned and put her uninjured hand on her forehead. "Aside from a killer headache, I'm more embarrassed than anything else."  
  
The doctor smiled at her. "Fainting is a perfectly reasonable reaction to my proposition. I don't expect an answer now, or any time soon, if that makes the situation easier to deal with."  
  
"Yes, I suppose it does. Thank you," Clarice replied. "Although I am sure you need a deadline."  
  
"Well, the sooner the better since I'm sure the FBI is keeping a closer watch on your house than normal and any unusual activities could easily arouse their suspicions," Doctor Lecter answered.  
  
There were a couple of minutes of silence before Clarice asked, "If it's not to much trouble, would you mind getting me a glass of water?"  
  
"Not at all," the doctor replied and went into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a glass of water. "Here you are," he said and handed it to Clarice.  
  
"Thank you," she replied and took it, finishing half the glass in one gulp.  
  
"Don't drink it too quickly," Doctor Lecter cautioned. "If you're nauseous, it will only make it worse."  
  
"I know, doctor," Clarice assured him, slightly amused at how caring he was being. This was a side of him she hadn't seen before and she was quickly deciding that she liked it quite a bit. "I can take care of myself."  
  
"Apparent not," the doctor said with a frown. "If you were able to take care of yourself, you wouldn't have tried to burn a letter when you were drunk."  
  
"I was not!" Clarice said loudly and indignantly. "I had only had a glass and a half!"  
  
"It's pretty obvious, Clarice, that that was enough to affect your judgement," Doctor Lecter argued. "If you had been fully functional, then you wouldn't have burned yourself."  
  
"You don't know that," Clarice replied, even though she knew she was losing the argument.  
  
"Yes I do," the doctor replied. "Now I want you to get some rest."  
  
"Why?" Clarice protested. "I'm not sick."  
  
"You've been through a lot and I don't want you to make yet another decision that you haven't fully worked through," Doctor Lecter argued. "Before I leave you to contemplate your options, is there anything else you would like?"  
  
Clarice looked at him in surprise. "You're leaving?"  
  
The doctor smiled widely. "I'll be back tonight at six, if that works with your schedule."  
  
"What schedule?" Clarice muttered under her breath. Louder, she replied, "Yes, that's fine. I'll see you then."  
  
"Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Doctor Lecter asked.  
  
"Yes, I'm positive," Clarice smiled.  
  
"I'll see you at six, then," the doctor replied and left, leaving Clarice lying down on her couch, smiling.  
  
~*5:45*~  
  
Clarice was sitting on her couch waiting for the doctor to come, even though it was still fifteen minutes until six. She had been thinking about his proposition all day and she still hadn't necessarily come to a decision. It was obvious to her what she wanted to do and what she should do, but what she was going to do was an entirely different matter.  
  
Clarice sighed and turned on the TV and began flipping through channels. She stopped at something that looked vaguely familiar and watched a couple of minutes before she realized it was Kate & Leopold.  
  
"And . . . it's a great thing to get what you want. It's a really good thing unless what you thought you wanted wasn't really what you wanted . . . because what you really wanted you couldn't imagine or you didn't think it was possible but what if someone came along who knew exactly what you wanted without asking they just knew . . . like they could hear your heart beating or listen to your thoughts and what if they were sure of themselves and they didn't have to take a poll and they loved you . . . but you hesitated and I . . . uh . . . I have to go . . . I'm sorry but . . . I have to go!"  
  
Clarice turned off the TV, Kate's speech ringing in her ears. She knew what to do; it was so blindingly obvious to her, she couldn't figure out why on earth she hadn't figured it out before. Feeling far more at peace, Clarice started to get things ready.  
  
*  
  
At exactly six o'clock, the doorbell rang. Even though she had come to a decision and she knew what was going to happen, Clarice was still shaking slightly as she got up to answer the door.  
  
"Good evening, Clarice," Doctor Lecter greeted her.  
  
"Good evening, Doctor Lecter," Clarice replied. "Please, come in," she replied and walked into her living room with the doctor following her. "Sit, please," she said and sat down on the couch.  
  
"Thank you," Doctor Lecter replied and sat down next to her. There were a couple of minutes of silence before he asked, "Have you come to a decision?"  
  
"Y-yes," Clarice stammered, her voice coming out much less sure of herself than she thought it ought to be. "Yes," she said with more conviction.  
  
Again, there were a couple of minutes of silence until Doctor Lecter asked, "What might that decision be?"  
  
Clarice moved closer to him until they were touching ever-so-slightly and whispered softly, "Take me with you. Show me what the world is like. Show me what-" Clarice faltered here. She took a deep breath and added quieter, "Show me what love is."  
  
Doctor Lecter smiled softly. "I'd love to, Clarice."  
  
Clarice smiled and moved closer to him so she was leaning on his shoulder. "I have a bag of things I need in my room, so we can leave at any time."  
  
"Then shall we go?" the doctor asked and stood up. He held his hands out for Clarice and she took them.  
  
"Let's," she whispered and led Doctor Lecter up to get her suitcase, beginning the first step of their life together. 


End file.
